


Drawn to You

by redskiez



Series: Tumblr Prompts [21]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Japanese Culture, M/M, Old Japanese Shogun, Out of Character, Secret Relationship, Suggestive Themes, TobiDei - Freeform, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, obidei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redskiez/pseuds/redskiez
Summary: Obito and his young art tutor continue their special lessons.





	Drawn to You

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.
> 
> nekoskeleton4212 said:  
> royal au (2) + secret relationship (54)  
> These two sounds nice together

His younger art teacher decided to never show up to the palace for his lessons after that fateful day.

Obito often has to head over to the artist’s workshop himself to remind him of his duties. Deidara never really has any qualms with it, not when he’s bent over the work table with a rough hand over his mouth to prevent him from really spewing out any good arguments against this relationship.

Madara, as well as the rest of the royal guards, remain completely oblivious to the true nature between Obito and his tutor. In fact, Madara seems to be extremely pleased with himself. He had managed to get his lazy, untalented — late-blooming is what he tells anyone when they raise the issue with him being the heir — and childish grandson out of the palace and seek an important part of their culture.

Obito had shown to be more eager to head to every lesson than the last. That has to count as something, right?

He knocks against the door of Deidara’s workshop and a familiar voice floats through the wood.

“For the last time, I said I’m bu—” Deidara cuts himself off when he turns around to see who it is at the door.

Obito shuts the door behind him slowly, hearing it click and then grins wickedly.

“You’re early,” Deidara sputters, dropping his paintbrush and palette ungracefully on his workstation.

Obito watches hungrily as those soft hands rub up and down against Deidara’s apron, cleaning them of any paint and clay. He takes a step toward his tutor and says, “The shōgun has asked for a commission.”

Deidara swallows thickly — so loud that even Obito can hear it — and stands a little straighter. He begins to walk around his workshop, circling Obito and fingers gliding against the recently cleaned table opposite his canvas stand. “What has our barbaric shōgun requested, yeah?”

Obito’s gaze follows him, eyes hungry for whatever they can see. “He wants an image of me,” he begins, taking a small step toward Deidara, “with an expression of pure ecstasy with you bent over beneath me.”

Deidara bites his lower lip, leaning against the table. “That doesn’t sound like something the shōgan should have, considering the subject contains his grandson, hm,” he says.

“Why,” Obito says, stalking closer to Deidara now, “he’s commissioning it for me. It is to be hung in my room.”

Deidara’s face twists into something Obito cannot decipher. He thinks it’s the issue of having his art so prominently displayed for a long period of time.

“Perhaps,” Obito says, stopping right in front of Deidara with his hands pressed on the table, at either side of Deidara’s body, “you’d like to see a reference first.”

“That would be a good idea,” Deidara replies.

His breath comes out shaky and Obito’s ears strain to hear it waver. He takes a deep breath through his nose and leans forward without another word, pressing his lips against Deidara’s.

Their kiss is more tender than any of the previous ones that they had. Obito doesn’t know exactly why.

With every passing second, Obito begins to press his body closer to Deidara’s until they’re flush against the chest. He can feel every single breath Deidara takes and a strange sensation fills his limbs.

He presses forward once and Deidara complies obediently. He hops on to the table and spreads his legs just so. Obito takes his rightful spot between them and holds Deidara’s cheeks tenderly.

They don’t move for a while, just staring into each other’s eyes as though they hold a greater treasure than any of them have heard or seen before.

A piece of art that burns bright like a never-ending fire, its every flicker so fleeting and beautiful that it makes Deidara eager for more, for the next time its flames will lick every part of his body.

A world of peace where there is no pain and suffering, where everything is as it should be. A sense of home and belonging that makes Obito feel a happiness that he has never felt before, that he never knew he missed.

With a gentle brush of his lips, Deidara opens his mouth and they dance softly in the afternoon light, content with just breathing in each other’s breaths.

A knock comes from the door and the two of them jerk away from each other.

“Deidara,” comes a voice from the door.

Deidara lets out a breathy laugh — it is so soft that Obito can barely hear it — and says, “What is it, Sasori, yeah?”

“The carving tools,” Sasori replies rather impatiently, “and my cut of the share.”

Obito turns to look at Deidara. Deidara looks back at him and shrugs. “An old friend,” he whispers. “He heard that the shōgun hired me and bullied me into giving him a half of what your grandfather pays me, hm.”

Obito huffs at that, ready to let go of Deidara to give the other artist a piece of his mind. Deidara’s grip on him tightens and he realizes belatedly that Deidara’s arms are wrapped loosely around his neck.

“Can you come back in a little bit?” Deidara calls out when Sasori asks if he fell somewhere that would cause his sudden silence.

“Did you misplace my tools?” Sasori asks.

“I didn’t, yeah,” Deidara says. “I’m just a little busy at the moment.”

“With what?”

“With, uh,” Deidara stutters when Obito leans forward to press a kiss against his neck. “With a commission. The prince came by earlier to tell me that his grandfather wanted a painting, yeah.”

“A painting,” Sasori echoes, “by you? How funny.”

“Can you come back a little later?” Deidara repeats.

Sasori says nothing for a while. The two of them can hear footsteps pacing back and forth the width of the door and then, finally, “Fine, but I get half of what the shōgun pays you for the commission.”

Deidara’s breath hitches. Obito presses another kiss on his neck, his teeth nipping at the skin.

“Y-Yeah,” Deidara replies.

“And my tools.”

Obito grinds his hips against Deidara’s.

“Y-Yes, yes,” Deidara says, sounding strained.

If Sasori noticed his weird tone, he doesn’t say. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half,” he announces and then he walks away.

Obito growls low in his throat.

Deidara hums in response and reaches down to begin to undo his pants.

Obito reaches out and wraps his fingers around Deidara’s thin wrist, pinning it to the side.

He wants to say something, anything, but Deidara catches the thoughts in his mind before they can even turn into words.

“We can’t, hm,” Deidara says. “What would the people think?”

“Leave them to their thoughts,” Obito replies. “I don’t give a damn what they think.”

Deidara scoffs, his hand on Obito’s shoulder tightening by the second. He is moved, Obito knows it. “We’re both men,” he says, perhaps trying to talk Obito out of this crazy thought he has had more than once.

“I know,” Obito replies and then he falls silent.

Deidara pulls his hand away from Obito’s grip and runs his fingers through Obito’s short and shaggy hair, combing it in a soothing fashion until Obito sighs heavily through his nose.

“Perhaps, in another life,” Deidara says.

“All of this snooping around, all of this hiding,” Obito says. “I don’t like any of it.”

“I know,” Deidara replies, “but there’s nothing we can do other than to keep this a secret, hm.”

“I want us to be happy.”

“I am happy. Are you not?”

Obito doesn’t reply. He leans forward and buries his face in Deidara’s neck. Deidara continues to pet his hair.

He’s never felt so content in his life, yet he feels as though he’s still in chains.

Deidara nuzzles his nose against his head.

Perhaps there’s nothing bad about feeling content with what they have and leave the yearning for those in the future, for those who have more things to lose and more bravery than the two of them combined to fight for what they deserve.

* * *

When Obito arrives back at the castle, Madara is there to welcome him.

“Grandson,” Madara says, his voice booming louder than usual. He notices the painting tucked under Obito’s arm. “You have brought home your work.”

“Yes,” Obito replies. He knocked over a couple of jars of paint when he lifted Deidara off the table to move the two of them to the wall. It sprayed a beautiful pattern a few of the discarded paintings that Deidara had strewn about the floor. He thought it would be best to take one of the better-looking ones home, considering he has returned empty-handed one too many times for the number of lessons he’s been attending.

“Let me see,” Madara says, holding out his hand.

Obito steps forward, up the first step of the throne, and hands Madara the still-damp canvas.

Madara admires it, pretending to understand the meaning behind the paint.

“Wonderful,” he announces after a while, rolling the parchment back up. “I see that little tutor of yours is worth something after all. I want to hang this up in my hall.”

Obito bows his head.

“And a hefty raise for your tutor.”

Obito keeps his head low.

“And, perhaps, if he is good enough, I would make him a court artist. Does he write well? Itachi’s sight has taken the turn for the worst.”

Obito hides his grin under his nose. “He will be perfect for the role,” he says. “His hand is heavenly.”

Madara huffs. “Very well,” he says, waving for his page to be by his side. “Write him the news,” he says to the page.

The page bows and leaves the room to fetch his brush and paper.

Obito stands and thanks his grandfather once more. He takes his leave when Madara dismisses him.

Once Obito leaves the room, Madara smiles pleasantly. “I’ve made a good choice,” he says to himself, looking down at Obito’s painting again. “Who knew he had such a way with art?”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if both of them are a little bit out of character. It's hard to write them in a royal setting considering I know about 6% regarding the historical royal family in Japan and 15% of China's. I would make them western but that might cross into Asgard territory and that's a habit that I'm not willing to admit just yet - ahem, I mean, that's East-Asian erasure and as an East-Asian I would not stand for it.
> 
> I also decided to make this a sequel to _Paint_ , considering that I already wrote a royal AU and I wasn't sure what kind of royal I wanted to go for. Why not draw from something I've already done?
> 
> This is dedicated to nekoskeleton4212. Thanks so much for the request and I hope you enjoyed reading this!
> 
> Remember to leave a comment!
> 
> This particular prompt is taken from the [Fanfiction Trope Mash-Up List](http://redskiez.net/post/174684285753/fanfiction-trope-mash-up). Feel free to send me an ask with two tropes of your choosing and I'll write a fic(let) of TobiDei for you!
> 
> If you haven't already, you should follow me on [Tumblr](http://redskiez.net/) (redskiez.net). I post updates, drawings, and cats on there. I will also answer any and all asks, so if you have any questions or requests, you can send them to me through Tumblr! My inbox is always open.
> 
> Did you know that I have a [ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/redskiez)? You can go to ko-fi.com/redskiez to buy me a coffee!


End file.
